


They didn't teach me this in education school

by agirlintheville



Series: Muscly McPotty Mouth and Doc B-Squared [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fighting and cursing in front of children, Kate is Clint and Jess's daughter, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Relationship fights, Slow Build, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlintheville/pseuds/agirlintheville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner has been a third grade teacher for ten years. Each year, he's faced things that Ed school never prepared him for. But this year will take the cake as he meets newly divorced dad, Clint Barton, and starts to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parent Conferences are always stressful

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is the first story I've written that I have actually felt like continuing. Please let me know what you think! This will be updated by Sunday and Thursday every week.

_When conducting parent conferences, be prepared to begin promptly. Do not make parents or guardians wait while you shuffle papers._

Bruce jerked his head up at the forceful knock on his classroom door. He stared at the man who had pushed open the door and now stood in the doorway with his arms tightly crossed against his chest.

“Are you my kid’s teacher?”

“Uh…” Bruce said blankly, glancing at Mrs. Nguyen who after startling at the interruption had returned to reading her daughter’s test scores.

“You’re Banner, right? I got a note about a conference at 4:15.” The man glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the wall which read, of course, 4:15.

Right. 4:15 slot. Kate Barton conference. Neither of Kate’s parents had signed up for conferences on the website that the school had launched last week. So he had assigned them a time slot and had given Kate a note to take home to her parents. He didn't receive a confirmation, so he hadn't really expected anyone to show up.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barton, I’m so sorry. Mrs. Nguyen and I were just finishing up and…”

“It’s 4:15 man, I got things to do,” Barton interrupted with a scowl.

Bruce glanced again at Mrs. Nguyen and murmured excuse me as he stood. She waved her hand at him carelessly, still flipping through the packet of scores that indicated her daughter’s reading and spelling levels. Bruce smoothed his tie and walked over to where the man was impatiently tapping his foot in the doorway.

“Like I said Mrs. Nguyen and I were just finishing up. Please, if you’ll have a seat in the hall here, I’ll be right with you. It won’t take but a moment.” Bruce indicated the bench and small table where he had placed a candy bowl and brochures of information about what his third graders had been doing so far in the school year. Barton glared at him but Bruce held on his patient smile. He had honed that smile through ten years of teaching and ten years of irate parents; he could out smile and out wait anyone under the sun. Finally, Barton spun on his heel and threw himself onto the bench, muttering about professionals and keeping strict time schedules.

Bruce closed the door and took a moment to grimace and then rearrange his face back into a more pleasant mask. Turning back to Mrs. Nguyen, he again patiently smiled.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” She shrugged. “Clint always leads with his personality.”

He raised an eyebrow, both at the name familiarity and the odd statement, but she was already continuing.

“Thank you for explaining these scores to me. I don’t know how you keep all the teacher lingo straight.”

Bruce chuckled, “I've been doing this for a long time. But, yeah, Hang is doing great. With a little more practice, those scores will improve by the 2nd trimester. I suggest she continue reading every night before bed. Have her read out loud some as well. It will help you to hear where she’s making any mistakes.”

“Oh that’s a good idea. Okay, great, we’ll stop by the bookstore on the way home and pick up some new books. She adores those comics about the cat who dresses in clothes. Fashion cat or fashion kitty, something like that. Anyway, thank you again, Dr. Banner.” They continued to chitchat on their way to the door, where he realized upon opening it that Barton was now right next to the doorframe peering at the kids’ essays that he had put up on the bulletin board during his lunch hour. The man straightened and moved back when he saw them step out.

“Clint! Hello!” Mrs. Nguyen hugged the man briefly.

“Vicky. How’s Thomas and Hang?”

“Oh, they’re wonderful. Will Kate be coming to the cooking lessons on Saturday?” Mrs. Nguyen turned to Bruce. “Every Saturday, my mother comes into the city to teach Hang how to make traditional Vietnamese dishes and Hang invites all of her friends to come learn as well!”

Bruce smiled and murmured something about wonderful grandparents. It didn't make much sense to him, but Mrs. Nguyen seemed satisfied at his response. He caught Barton glancing at him before the man replied “I guess that depends on how this conference goes.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Nguyen eyed them both for a moment. “Well, call me and let me know so that we can get the right amount of food.”

“Sure. See you Vicky.” She patted his shoulder and walked down the hall towards the library to collect her daughter. Bruce realized that he had been bemusedly watching their exchange only when he felt the weight of Barton’s gaze on him. _Stop getting distracted Banner_ , he chided himself. Still it always surprised him when he saw evidence that his students’ parents did things together outside of school functions. It was as weird as when the kids saw him out at the grocery store. He wondered if the parents did lots of activities together. They must do birthday parties. What about wine nights and book clubs? What on earth did they talk about? Did they talk about him? God, that was unnerving to think about.

“So.”

Bruce blinked and mentally shook himself. _Get it together Banner._

He tried a rueful smile, “Sorry, woolgathering.”

Barton looked at him steadily. “Yeah, Kate says you do that. A lot.”

“I do indeed.” Bruce replied cheerfully. “Some of my best thoughts occur when I’m supposed to be paying attention. I’m Dr. Banner, Kate’s teacher. Please come on in, Mr. Barton.” He gestured towards the open classroom.

Barton walked in and paused after a couple of steps. He looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. “This is…colorful.”

Bruce looked over at him. Huh, maybe this was his first time seeing the classroom. He couldn't remember if the man had been at the Open House last month; it had been packed with parents and kids. He remembered meeting Kate’s mom, lovely women with jet black hair, Jess or Jessie, something like that. But maybe the dad hadn't been there.

“Yes, it is. I find the colors help stimulate the children’s imaginations. Plus, it’s just fun. Feel free to look around while I get my materials together.” Bruce turned towards his desk to find Kate’s file and reading scores. He dug them out from under a stack of social studies magazines and then turned his attention to the dad. Barton still stood in the spot where he had stopped, hands tucked deep into his jacket pockets, eyes bouncing from one display to another. It was always enlightening to see how adults reacted to an environment completely designed for children. Some parents were gleeful, flooded with memories of their own childhood while other parents were simply tolerant of the badly drawn pictures and stumbling descriptions of favorite books or pets. Then there were parents like Barton, stiff and almost suspicious of anything that hinted at indoctrinated learning. Parents like that, Bruce had come to realize, had not had an easy time being a student. This probably wouldn't be a fun one.

“Alright, well, here we go. Please take a seat.” Bruce indicated the one of the blue chairs at his small group table. He’d have conferences at his desk, but it was always covered in papers. He didn't even work there, just used it as a paper dump. Besides this way, he could enjoy watching grown adults try to fit into their child’s chair and squirm uncomfortably. Petty, perhaps, but in the teaching business, one had to appreciate the little things. Predictably, Barton blinked in surprise when he realized how far down he was sitting. He frowned deeply and hunched over. Elbows on his knees and head propped up on fists. Not the most receptive position. Bruce braced himself and began his usual spiel.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Barton. We try to schedule conferences every trimester so that we can touch base with parents about…”

“Look, is Kate in trouble or something?”

Bruce paused. “No, she is not. Is there a reason that you assume that?”

Barton leaned back in the small chair, hands now clenched together in his lap. He shook his head, eyes watching Bruce carefully. Bruce got the feeling that this man didn’t miss much, even with the aggressive emotions being projected. “Just trying to speed this up.”

“Alright then. Well Kate is doing very well academically. Here are some of her writing samples. She writes a lot about her dog, Lucky, and also quite a bit about Merida from Brave. Apparently, she likes that Merida is very competent with a bow and arrow.” Bruce smiled at the dad, trying to get him to share in the quirkiness of his child, but Barton still just watched him, with only brief glances at the papers on the table. Clearing his throat, Bruce continued. “Her math scores are excellent and I’m very impressed that she has memorized most of multiplication tables already. Her reading scores are also stellar.” Bruce paused again as Barton finally picked up the materials to look closely at them.

“She reads fine?” Barton asked gruffly “She doesn't…trip over the words?”

“Oh, she’s a voracious reader. Loves to read out loud too, which many children are hesitant to do.” Barton nodded and Bruce could see his shoulders start to loosen from their tense position.

“But I would like to talk about Kate’s social activities.” Yep and there went the shoulders back up.

Barton raised his chin and narrowed his eyes at him. “What social activities?”

“Well, it seems that Kate has…she and some of her friends have decided…” Bruce stopped and tried to think of how to word this next topic. It didn’t seem like Barton would appreciate any gentling, so he shrugged and said plainly, “Kate has formed a club and it seems that their purpose is to guard and protect other students who are getting picked on.”

Barton blinked and tilted his head. “Okay.”

“Yes, usually I would be commending Kate for being supportive of her classmates who are having a difficult time, but it appears that Kate’s group is being rather proactive with their protective measures.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that…Kate and her friends have supposedly been, um, targeting several students who have not done anything this year, but in past years have initiated incidents towards other children.”

“Supposedly targeting?”

“Yes.”

“Like beating them up?”

“Well, threatening them.”

“Threatening them.”

“Yes, well,” Bruce sighed. The man’s narrowed eye look had not wavered in the slightest. “There were two children who reported that she had pushed them up against a wall and threatened them, saying to not pick on her friends this year. But no one has actually seen her approach those children.”

Barton scrubbed his hands across his face. “You’re saying that my daughter is going around threatening kids who in the past have been bullies because she, what, thinks they’re going to bully again?”

“That is what has been reported to me, yes.”

Barton leaned over his knees again. “I thought you said she wasn't in trouble.”

“She’s not. Like I said, no one can place Kate near the children at the times that were reported. I’m telling you this as more of a proactive measure than anything else.”

The man clenched his hands tightly in his lap and shook his head. “Okay. Proactive. Yeah. I’ll talk to her.”

Bruce hesitated, “Thank you. It’s just….Kate is really doing stellar in every other way. It’s just this small matter…”

“A small matter that could turn out to be a big deal later on,” Barton burst out. Bruce carefully leaned back in his chair, waiting for Barton to either calm down or explode out of his chair. He could handle either reaction and had indeed been witness to both reactions before. It was tough for parents to hear what their little ones did when they weren’t around to manage them. After a minute, Barton took a deep breath and straightened in his chair.

“Is there anything else I need to know about?”

“No I think that’s all. Unless you have questions for me?”

“No. Yeah. Does Jess know about any of this?”

“Jess…your wife?”

“Ex wife,” Barton mumbled. He cut his eyes away towards to the comfy reading spots. “We split up.”

“Ah. But Kate only has one address listed on her contact records…”

“Yeah.” Bruce raised an eyebrow when the man didn’t continue. Barton flushed, his eyes still locked on the green and purple pillows in the corner. “ We, uh, were still living together. After. But it didn’t…we were just…I just moved out a few weeks ago. Haven’t had a chance to update the records yet.”

“Right. Um, well then. No, I have not informed Mrs. Barton about this. I was waiting until this conference.”

Barton nodded slowly. “Drew. Her last name is Drew.”

“Oh. Ah, right. Ms. Drew then.” Bruce looked down into Kate’s file and scribbling a small note to have the office to update the child’s contact records. He looked back up to find Barton watching him quietly. Bruce met his eyes steadily until after a few moments, Barton glanced away and let out a small breath.

“Okay. Well then, thanks Dr. Banner.” He stood and Bruce stood as well.

“Of course. Let me know if I can provide any further assistance or…”

“Yeah sure.” Barton scooped his daughters’ papers under his arm and walked out the door without looking back.

Bruce sighed, reached up to take off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure what kind of a first impression he had made with Barton, but he knew the one that the man had made on him: aggressive dad with leftover anger from his failed relationship. That would be wonderful to deal with for the rest of the school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote in the beginning is from "The First Year Teacher's Survival Guide" by Julia G. Thompson


	2. It's what we do on Thursday nights now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday night dinner with the family. This is not going to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another chapter! And earlier than I thought! This one is from Clint's POV.

_An alternative to criticism: instead of pointing out what’s wrong, describe what’s right and what still needs to be done._

Clint leaned against the doorway of the school library, shuffling Kate’s papers in his hands. Spelling assessment, reading assessment, math quizzes, science project evaluation. Who knew that eight year olds did so much stuff in school these days?

He looked up to watch Kate cuddle against the afterschool teacher as the woman read a picture book to a group of kids whose parents were still stuck in their conferences. Not wanting to ruin the story, he waited silently until the teacher- _Ms. Swinger, Ms. Singer, something like that_ , he thought- turned a page and glanced up at him. She nudged Kate and nodded towards the door. His daughter saw him and gave him a frown so deep, it was almost a scowl. Yep, she was his kid alright. He matched her expression and tapped his watch.

Kate gave a huge sigh and moped over to a nearby table to grab her book bag. Clint shook his head. Ah the dramatics. If she got the mulish behavior from him, then the tendency for theatrics was from Jess. He looked over at the teacher; she smiled and shook her head. Great and now there was pity. _Whatever._

“You ready?” he asked. Kate had pouted over to him by now.

“Daddyyyy,” Kate put her full powers of whine onto the ending sound. “Mrs. Swingler is almost done. Can I stay for just a few more minutes?”

“Sorry kiddo, but we gotta go. We’re having dinner with Mom and we have to stop by the grocery store, remember?”

This time Kate did full out scowl at him. “It’s not like you want to have dinner with her anyway.”

“Hey.” Clint’s tone was low but sharp enough that the Kate straightened. He cast a wary eye over to Mrs. Swingler- _dammit, Swinger, Swingler, close_ \- but she didn't turn from her reading. He looked back to see Kate looking him straight in the eye. _Good girl, always look em in the eye even when you’re laid low._ “We’re having dinner with Mom. It’s what we’re doing on Thursday nights now. So let’s go.”

He turned and walked out of the library. She’d follow him. She always did, even when he begged her not to. Clint suddenly heard his own pleading voice in his mind- _You gotta stay with mom, you can’t live with me, my life isn't good for you._ He shook his head quickly. Enough Clint. He sighed and stopped at the school entrance and waited for Kate to catch up. He took up her book bag and put his arm around her.

“C’mon kiddo. I’m planning on nuggets tonight.”

“From scratch?” Kate’s eyes lit up.

“Is there any other way to make em?” he grinned.

“YAY!!” She gave an elaborate fist pump and lunge before pushing open the heavy doors and bolting out to the sidewalk.

Clint laughed and caught the door on the back swing. Then feeling a prickling on his neck, he darted his eyes to the side. The main office. The teacher, Banner, was there. Watching. Their eyes met and Banner gave a smile and wave before disappearing back into the office. _Huh, he has a really sweet smile._ Then the fall chill smacked him full in the face and his only thoughts were to get the car’s heater as quick as he could.

* * *

 

Clint pushed the green beans around his plate. Maybe if he mashed them up enough, they wouldn't be edible. Then he caught Jess’s frown. Right, supposed to be a good role model, eat the damn veggies. He almost stuck his tongue out at her, but he settled for scooping up a huge forkful of beans and stuffing them in his mouth. He glared at her; she rolled her eyes and turned back to Kate, who was in the middle giving her usual nonstop retelling of her school day. Christ, he hated green beans. And she knew that. Totally not cool. Next week it would be his turn to pick the vegetable. He was so going to do an onion slaw or something. Maybe grilled onions. Yeah, so many grilled onions. That’d totally show her.

“And then Kendra said that she could make the jump, but Omar said there was no way, and then they bet on it, but I didn't bet because I’m friends with both of them, and I didn't want to get in the middle of it, you know? Then Kendra didn't make the jump, and so now Omar gets her most favoritest baseball card. Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t, wow,” Jess smiled, her eyes sparkling at Kate’s retelling.

“I know! I can’t either! She loves that card! But the best thing was…” Kate continued on, waving her fork in the air with Jess chuckling at her elaborate gestures.

This…this was good. Green beans aside, this was good. Just a normal family dinner. They’d even survived cooking it together without arguing in the kitchen. Just like old times. Super old times, before everything with Jean went down. Clint jerked his thoughts away from that path and focused again on the present. Maybe it would stay this good until he left.

“So, did Daddy meet your teacher?” he heard Jess break in. Or maybe it wouldn't.

“Oh yeah! What’d you think, Dad? Isn’t Dr. Banner the coolest?” Kate and Jess gazed expectantly at him.

He swallowed his green bean mash quickly. Ugh gross. “Uh, yeah, he seemed like a nice guy. “

“Did everything go okay? How’s she doing?”

“Mooom, I’m doing fine! I’m one of the best in class, he tells me so every day.”

Jess threw a smile in her direction, but stayed focused on Clint. “Well?”

“Yeah, yeah. He says she doing great academically and…”

“Her reading? Her reading is on level?”

“Yeah. Says she’s a great reader, loves to read.” Clint met her eyes and saw the relief there. He understood- at least that was something that their daughter had gotten from Jess rather than from him.

Jess let out a breath. “Good. That’s…really great.” She smiled at Kate and the girl beamed.

“Yeah,” Clint cleared his throat. “But uh, he’s concerned about her, uh, social…social activities.”

“Her social activities?” Jess repeated, still smiling at Kate. But Kate immediately turned red and stared down at her plate. Jess’s smile dropped quickly.

“Yeah. He, uh,” Clint sighed and put down his fork. Shit this sucked. “He said he’s had reports. From other kids. That Kate’s not being nice to them, but no one can prove it.”

“She…what?” Jess’s eyebrows shot up. She jerked her head towards Clint and then back to Kate, who was focused on trying to move her fries with the power of her eyes.

“Hey. Kiddo,” Clint spoke softly. “Always look em in the eye right?”

Kate nodded jerkily. Then she raised her head, her eyes darting around before finally settling on Jess. “I didn't do anything.”

“Well, okay then.”

“Jess.”

“She said she didn't do anything, Clint.”

“The guy didn't say she did anything, Jess! No one can verify the stories.”

“Then he shouldn't have brought it up at all!”

Clint leaned back and studied her. Jess’s brows were dipped in an angry slant, lips tight. This was the “how dare you criticize anything that I love” look. _Okay. New tactic._ He flicked a look towards Kate. The girl was silent, pushing her green beans around with her fork.

“Kate?” The fork froze. “Did you threaten your classmates?”

Jess gasped, “Is that what he said? He said threaten? Oh no, he wouldn't dare...!”

“Jess…just chill please.”

“I’m not going to chill, they can’t just make accusations about…”

“Kate,” Clint said loudly to cut her off. The girl jumped and looked up. “I asked you a question.”

“Hell no, Clint!”

“Jess, just…Kate?”

“I didn't threaten anyone...”

“See!” Jess turned a triumphant smile towards him.

“…not really,” Kate finished.

Jess spun back towards her daughter. “What do you mean not really?”

Clint watched Kate place her fork down and slouch until only her head was visible above the table. “Well I…you know how last year William was so mean towards Marina and we were really worried that he’d try it again this year, so I just kinda warned him…”

“You warned him,” Jess’s tone was flat now. Kate slouched even further. Now all he saw was from her nose up. “Warned him how?”

Kate mumbled, “I just told him that if he was mean again this year, he’d have me to deal with and it wouldn't be good.”

Clint put his head in his hands and groaned. “Kate, that’s called making a threat.”

“No, it’s not! I didn't say I’d hurt him.”

“Kate, it’s implied,” he sighed. "Saying that if he does something and then there’s the implication of a negative consequence is a threat! You can’t say stuff like that to the other kids!”

There was silence for a moment, then he heard the tapping. Clint grimaced behind his hands- Jess was tapping her nails on the table. Shit. He looked up towards her face. Her eyes were frozen on a point behind his shoulder, lips pressed tightly together.

“I. Cannot. Believe. This.”

“Shit. Jess…” “Mommy…”

“Hush.” They hushed.

Jess continuing to tap her nails. Then she closed her eyes briefly before turning her body completely to face Kate. “I cannot believe that my daughter would be so rude to another human being. And so crass as to imply that she would use her hands for anything other than protecting herself.”

“I was protecting my friends!”

“Your friends didn't need protecting yet! You, Ms. Katherine Elizabeth Barton, were bullying that boy,” Jess shot out.

Kate was now pale, and blinking rapidly. Jess looked at Clint, “Do you have anything to add?”

Clint sighed. God, parenting sucked.” Kate, you shouldn't have…I know you were trying to do the right thing, but sweetie, that wasn't it.”

Now Kate’s face crumpled.

“Upstairs,” Jess’s voice was chilly. “No dessert. No cooking lessons this weekend. Brush your teeth and get into bed. I’ll be there to read to you in 15 minutes.”

Kate shoved her chair back and ran towards the stairs. Smart girl. She knew how to read the signs of Jess’s anger as well as he did. Clint rested his head back on his chair and closed his eyes. _Crap on a stick, what are we going to do about this?_ “What are you going to do about this?” Jess’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“What? Me?” He raised his head and blinked at her.

“Yes. You. “ She pushed her chair back and started to clear the dishes.“She lives with you for most of the week, you’re the one she goes to for advice about her friends, you’re the one who’s been giving her boxing lessons, yes I know I agreed to it but obviously she’s trying to copy your tough guy tactics rather than thinking of it as a self defense method. So what are you going to do about this?”

“My...my tough guy tactics? Really?” Clint’s mouth dropped open. There was no way she was making this about him. He was responsible for a lot of fucked things in their relationship. But this? No. Way.

“Clint,” Jess paused with plates in both hands. “Are you honestly telling me that when Dr. Banner told you about this, your first reaction wasn't pride?”

“What?” he gaped. “No!” Jess raised an eyebrow. “Well I mean, look I might have thought. For a second! That it wasn't that big of a deal, but then I re-thought and realized it was a big deal, okay? And I dunno, maybe we _should_ be proud. She had the right intentions after all.”

“And that’s why you have to think of a solution. Because that statement right there? And this whole thing? Has you written all over it.”

“Jess, dude, that’s not fair.” He pushed himself out of his chair and planted his hands on the table.

“Not fair? You want to know what’s not fair? Dude?” She mimicked him bitterly. “What’s not fair is only having my daughter on the weekends because she’d rather live with her father because she obviously blames me for our divorce. What’s not fair is realizing that she’s absorbing all sorts of, of habits from you and I can’t influence her in any way because again, she blames me for our divorce. What’s not fair that I always have to play bad cop while you sit there being happy go lucky because once again, she blames me for our divorce. That’s not fair!” Jess placed the plates back on the table with a clatter and hugged her arms tight to her chest.

Clint stared at her, and then dropped his eyes to the table. “She doesn’t blame you,” he began weakly.

“Yes, she does! And God, if she knew the full story, she’d…” Jess stopped and took a deep breath. Turned away from him slowly. “You know what? Nope. When you moved out, I swore to myself that I wasn't going to do this with you anymore.

“What, argue with me? It doesn't look like you’re holding up that promise very well.” Clint placed his hands on his hips, gearing himself up for battle. He knew what came next- she would make a cutting remark about how they were having a discussion not an argument, implying that he couldn't tell the difference, he would return with some snarky statement about how she could turn a sermon into an argument, and then it would dissolve from there. He had enjoyed the peace before but now he was looking forward to this. _What is wrong with you, Clint? Can you seriously not enjoy a quiet night with your family?_

But Jess stayed turned away, shoulders hunched. Finally, she said evenly, “Could you clean up the table, please? I’m going to talk to Kate.” And before he could say anything, she swept out of the room.

Clint stared after her. _No fight? What the hell?_ He slowly lowered himself back into his chair and stared at the table. It had all been going so well.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote from the beginning is from "How to talk so kids can learn at home and in school" by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish.


	3. Extreme Emotional Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another conference, another confrontation

_What to do when parents or guardians are uncooperative: remain calm_

Bruce had seen a lot of children cry. For some reason, crying children just seemed to pop up wherever he was. He’d witnessed everything from loud scared wails to heavy fake sobs to frightened sniffles to petrified hiccups. But he had to admit that this was new.

Kate Bishop was crying.

He never thought he’d see Kate cry. She was a tough little thing who wrestled her school day like Steve Irwin had wrestled crocodiles, all dogged stubbornness and glee. But now, she was just…crying. No sniffles, no sobs, no gulping breaths for air; just tears running down her face.

May Parker, the school nurse, who was kneeling in front of her, shot him a baffled look. “Dr. Banner, I can’t find any injury on her. Maybe she’s still startled from earlier…”

Bruce crouched down next to the nurse in order to better see Kate’s face. “Kate, honey, if you’re not hurt, you’ll have to tell us what’s wrong. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Kate looked at him, but didn't say anything. She continued to cry.

“Kate, I’m not angry about the display. Really, I’m not. I’m just glad you didn't get hurt. Can you tell me why you’re crying?”

She continued to cry, her body hunched in one of the hard plastic chairs in the nurse’s office.

Bruce rose to his feet, wincing as his knees cracked. He motioned to May, who followed as he stepped a few feet away from the girl. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” he admitted.

May shook her head. “She appears to be in shock maybe, but I’m not sure. We should call her parents…”

“NO!”

Both adults snapped their heads towards Kate who slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide above her fingers.

May took a step towards her. “Kate, what’s…”

“Please, please, please don’t call my parents!” And now the sobs came. Great muffled sobs escaping from Kate’s covered mouth as she began to rock back and forth on her chair.

“Oh, sweetheart!” May knelt again in front of the girl, hands braced on either side of the chair. She hissed at him, “I think she’s having an anxiety attack.”

Bruce ran his hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay…okay. Um, Kate, it’s okay. We’re both here. No one’s going to leave.” He sat down in the chair next to her, trying to soothe her with his presence. He sent a quick look towards May and she motioned at him to keep talking. “I know you’re upset and I’m so sorry. But I’ll do my best to help you figure out whatever’s wrong.”

Kate continued to rock for several long minutes. As her sobs died down to rapid gulps of air, May stood to get her a glass of water. Bruce continued to murmur to her, reassuring her that he and the nurse were right there and they were going to help the best they could.

After some time, Kate wiped her cheeks and let out a heavy tear clogged sigh. May handed her the glass as she said, “Kate, can you tell us what’s wrong?”

The girl stared blankly as the glass in her hand and shook her head. “I’m sorry for breaking your display.”

Bruce blinked and patted the Kate’s hand. “It was an accident, Kate, it’s fine really. I can fix it.”

“Are you going to call my dad?”

“Well, we can call him to pick you up. You might feel better if you take the rest of the day off.”

Kate peered at him uncertainly. “No, I mean…you’re not going to call him about how I broke the display?”

Bruce smiled and shook his head. “It was an accident. That’s not something I call parents for.”

“Okay.” She slumped against the back of the chair. “I’m tired.”

May took the still full glass of water. “You can rest here, dear, and take a load off. And while you lie here, we’ll call your parents to see if they can come get you or even just talk to you on the phone.”

“My dad,” Kate corrected. “I’m with my dad tonight.”

May smiled, “Your dad then.”

* * *

 

“What the fuck did you do to my kid?”

Badly startled, Bruce nearly fell out of his chair. Clint Barton was standing in his doorway, body stiff and tense, with his arms… _Whoa, biceps. Really? Who has arms like that? Is that paint?_

“Did you hear me? Or am I going to have to get the principal in here and repeat myself?”

Bruce shook his head and rose from his chair. He had a furious father to deal with. He was not going to lose himself in pondering the man’s thick biceps or his arm regimen or how he might have obtained the streaks of dirt and color on his jeans. Faded, tight jeans. With frayed cuffs, and a rip in the knee. That really hugged his thighs. _How does he move around in those?_

“Jesus fuck’s sake!” Barton spun around and began to stomp down the hallway.

_Shit. For crying out loud Banner!_ “Mr. Barton, wait, please!” Bruce rushed to the doorway to catch him before he made too far down the hallway.

“My sincerest apologies, if you’ll come in, we can talk. I have some time before my class finishes P.E.”

Barton turned around and faced him. “Are you gonna spend that time telling me what happened to Kate or are you just gonna ogle me?”

Bruce blushed so hard that he felt almost faint. He quickly scanned the hallway, but the other classrooms were either tucked away behind closed doors or were empty. He narrowed his eyes at Barton. “I wasn’t ogling you…”

“Yeah, sure,” the man rolled his eyes.

“…I was wondering why you had paint on you.” Bruce mentally patted himself on the back for that quick deflect.

Barton looked down at himself. Then, he began walking back to Bruce’s classroom. “I came here from work. Look, the nurse said that Kate suffered some extreme emotional distress after an accident in class. And now, she’s in the main office and won’t talk to me. What happened?”

Bruce motioned him in and towards his small group table. He grabbed a pencil and paper to give himself some time to think. He took a small breath and looked up into the man’s blue eyes and _Blue? Or are they green? Or…nope, nope. Okay, no_. Bruce jerked his eyes to a corner over the man’s shoulder and fell on the pieces of the broken shark display. He winced.

“Um. Well, this is the week that we celebrate sharks. All of the students do investigative reports and essays in order to make the point clear that these are beautiful endangered animals instead creatures to be feared.”

Barton frowned and leaned back in the chair. “Okay. And…”

“And…well, Kate tripped while throwing away the trash from snack and knocked our shark display over.” He motioned to the broken pieces in the corner. The kids had tried their best to save every scrap in hopes that he could put it back together.

Barton twisted to look over at the wrecked model. “Was she hurt? Did it fall on her?”

Bruce rolled his pencil between his fingers. “No, she was fine. Not a scratch on her. I think she was more startled than anything else. But when she didn't stop crying, I walked her to the nurse.” He didn't mention how, after the incident, Kate had sat in her chair looking at her independent reading book with silent tears rolling down her face or how her table partners had come to him panicking about how Kate couldn't stop crying.

“She was just…crying?” There was confusion and worry in the man’s voice. “

Kate doesn't cry. I mean obviously she does. Everyone cries. But…” Barton stopped to scrub at his hair. “Kate doesn't cry without a reason.”

“Yes, I've realized.” Bruce took off his glasses and looked down at them. _Tread lightly Banner._ “Mr. Barton, please forgive me if I overstep myself with this. But…how is everything at home?”

He felt the man freeze. After a long moment, he looked up to see those blue-green eyes staring him. He couldn't decipher the emotion in them.

“Why would you think something was wrong at home?” His voice was tight.

“I didn't say I thought anything was wrong. I just asked how things were.”

“Things are fine.”

Bruce fiddled with the stem of his glasses. Then he laid them on the table and squared his shoulders. This needed to be said. Because what he had seen that morning from Kate, he didn't want to see that again if he could help it.

“Mr. Barton, if you would be more comfortable having this conversation with the principal or a guidance counselor in attendance, I would understand perfectly…”

“What the hell are you talking about, I don’t …”

“But,” Bruce spoke over the man’s interruption, “when Kate was in the nurse’s office, she practically had an anxiety attack when we said we were going to call you. Now I’m not sure if you've ever seen a child have an anxiety attack but it’s completely heartbreaking. It speaks to a deeper problem that is occurring somewhere. It doesn't seem to be school. Now if you say things are fine at home, then alright, I believe you. I want to believe you. But something is happening somewhere and, God help me, I intend to find out so that I don’t have to watch that brilliant child suffer that kind of emotional pain again!”

Bruce heard his own quick breaths and realized he was half out of his chair, leaned over the table, right up in Barton’s face. The man was still, almost a statue. Barton stared back at him and then slowly lowered his gaze to Bruce’s right hand. Bruce followed his gaze and saw the snapped pencil dangling from his grip. He stared for a few seconds and then plopped back in his chair.

He carefully laid the pieces of the pencil on the table and ran his hand through his hair. His hand was shaking. _Fuck. Definitely crossed the line Banner._ There was no sound, no movement across from him, but he kept his eyes on the table anyway. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“Ya think?” Barton’s voice was strained.

Bruce sighed and reached for his glasses, willing the trembling to stop. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just…Kate’s a wonderful student and an incredible kid and it was hard to see her like that.”

He chanced a look at Barton and saw that the man was staring at a poster behind his head. Be a friend to all, big or small, it cheerfully advised.

Barton shook his head and then slumped in his chair with a sudden loosening of all of his limbs. He ran his hands down his face and asked, “She didn't want you to call me?”

“No. She didn't. She, uh, very strongly voiced her opposition towards it actually.”

“Shit.” The curse was quiet and lost. “Has she been, uh, acting weird? Like trying to do everything super perfect?”

Bruce frowned at the seemingly change of topic. “She has been extra helpful the past couple of weeks. I mean, she’s always helpful, but she’s been volunteering to do things for the kids, like get out their supplies and things. Actually, that’s what she was doing today, when she tripped- she was throwing away trash from her friend’s snack.”

“Yeah. Yeah, so…” Barton straightened back up and rubbed his forehead. Then in a rush “Jess and I kind of took the bullying thing to heart and have been trying to get her to behave better and we might have had a few fights about it, well non fights really, Jess, I dunno, won’t argue with me anymore, just starts ignoring me, anyway she might have overheard us and this all might be because of that and that might be why she didn't want you to call me because she might have thought that I’d think she was acting up again. And. Yeah.”

Bruce stared at him, trying to understand the onslaught of words. “I…The bullying thing?”

“Yeah,” Barton slanted a look towards him. “You know. You said she was bullying her classmates.”

“I…” Then Bruce remembered the conference from three weeks ago. “I didn't mean to say that she was bullying people. I just wanted to make you aware of a possible situation that could definitely be prevented.”

“Well, whatever. We’ve been talking to her about it.”

“Mr. Barton…” Bruce spoke slowly, trying to feel out his words. He didn't want another misinterpretation. “Mr. Barton, Kate is a fantastic student. I wish that I had a whole classroom full of Kates, to be honest. I don’t want you and your wife to think that she’s been behaving badly. I especially don’t want to her to feel like any school to home communication will result in her getting in trouble.”

Barton looked at him for a moment and glanced to the side. “Ex-wife.”

“What?”

“Ex-wife. She’s my ex. We’re divorced. That’s a huge part of the problem.”

“Er…that’s part of the problem with Kate?”

“No. Yeah. Well,” Barton stopped. He stood abruptly. “Look, I’ll talk to her. Is there anything else?”

Bruce stood as well, but slowly. He had obviously missed something here. “No, I don’t think so. But Mr. Barton…if there are things going on at home…”

“Then they’re really none of your business.”

Bruce fell silent. The man had closed off again, fingers tucked into the pockets of those ridiculously tight jeans. _Does he shimmy into those or how does that work? Stop. Focus._ He cleared his throat. “If Kate’s performance at school begins to change as a result of something going on at home, then it becomes my business.”

He continued softly when Barton didn’t respond. “We have excellent counselors here. In fact, Mr. Stark actually specializes in counseling parent-child relationships…”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Barton said shortly. “Where’s Kate’s things? I’m going to take her home.”

Bruce looked at him, debating whether or not to press the issue. Finally, he sighed, “They’re in the main office. One of the girls took them down earlier.”

Barton nodded, “Thanks.” And walked out of the classroom, shoulders tight and head bowed.

Bruce placed his hands on his hips. _Way to go Banner. That was excellent parent communication._ He sighed again and grabbed his keys. He was glad the kids had recess after P.E. He could use some fresh air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote in the beginning is from "The First Year Teacher's Survival Guide" By Julia G. Thompson


	4. Ice Cream is supposed to make things better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some bad days just never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sad. I was sad after I wrote it. I'm sorry, I swear this story will eventually be happy.

_Over the course of development the relationships between parents and their children undergo considerable change. Different issues and tasks take center stage in family interactions as children mature, and the manner in which they are handled is thought, in some cases, to lay the groundwork for future development._

Clint was convinced that the universal cure for any ailment was ice cream. Got a sore throat? Eat ice cream. Stomach pains? Whip out the ice cream. Having a bad day, having a good day, it’s a day that ends in -day? Dig out a pint and get a spoon, it’s ice cream time.

So, obviously, the ice cream shop was the first place he could think to go after leaving the school. However, watching Kate eat her cone, he was beginning to regret his decision. Kate didn't just eat ice cream, she savored it as if it was the most decadent meal in all the world. Of course, this meant that most of it melted and dripped everywhere instead of ending up in her mouth.

“You know, they have these awesome inventions called napkins.”

Kate licked vanilla drips from her wrist. “Huh?”

He winced and said, “You know, napkins. People use them to clean up messes…like melting ice cream.”

“What?” she paused and looked at him, confused.

Clint sighed and pushed his own empty cup away. “Never mind. Look Kate, we need to talk about what happened today.” She blinked at him and immediately become interested in her cone again.

“Kate, come on,” he said. “Your teacher said he didn't know why you were upset. He also said that you didn't want him to call me. So…what happened?”

The girl focused on catching the small plops of ice cream dripping from the bottom of her cone. He waited patiently, his eyes watching her steadily. Fun fact about his daughter- she liked to think that she could out-stubborn him, but she didn't realize that he had sniper-like levels of patience and stillness.

Kate’s eating grew more and more hesitant as he continued to sit silently across from her. Finally, she took one last bite and then just stopped. Clint still didn't move.

Kate huffed a breath and looked over at him. “I don’t think I’m gonna finish it.”

“That’s fine. Put it in my cup.”

The girl placed it top down in the cup with the cone sticking out. “Look, it has a hat,” she said.

Clint didn't reply and his eyes didn't move from her face. Kate squirmed in her seat, rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, but didn't say anything else. Clint was impressed. Not even Jess could last this long against what she called his “Hawk-eyed stare.” He briefly flashed back to that argument- _“Isn't the phrase eagle eyed?” “Yeah, like I’m going to compare you to our country’s national bird.”_

Kate finally wilted and propped her chin on the table. “I didn't want you to be angry with me again.”

Clint frowned, “Why would I be angry? Dr. Banner said it was accident. It was an accident, wasn't it?”

“Yes!” she jerked upright. “I would never break Dr. Banner’s things on purpose!”

“Okay, okay, chill,” Clint held out a placating hand. Yeesh, that was some teacher devotion right there. _Wonder if I should be jealous or something._ “Then why would I be angry?”

“It’s just…”Kate stopped as her voice started to break. Kate squeezed her eyes shut and quickly shook her head. She continued softly, “I was trying so hard and it was so stupid, I didn't watch where I was going and I tripped.” She breathed out a small sob.

“Aww, Kate,” Clint moved quickly to slide into her booth, and wrapped her in his arms. She hunched into him, trying to control her tears. He gave her a few minutes to compose herself and then asked, “What were you trying so hard to do, kiddo?”

Kate pressed closer to him. She scrubbed her eyes with her sticky hands. Then in a whispered breath, “I was trying to be good.”

Clint froze at that. He leaned back so that he could see her face better. “What do you mean trying to be good?”

She sighed and scooted away a little. “You and Mommy had that really loud fight and I know it’s because I was bullying the other kids. So I've been trying really hard to be good and help out a lot. But then I broke the stupid shark display. And now I have to start all over.”

“Kate…that's not…you are good, you’re great, Kate the Great, remember?” He nudged her hand, smiling a little. When she didn't respond to her old nickname, he frowned. “Kate, sweetie. This thing between Mommy and me. The fighting…and everything else. It has nothing to do with you or the bullying.”

She looked back at him unconvinced. “Then what does it have to do with?”

“It, uh.” He removed his arms from around her and ran both hands through his hair. “It had to do with some other stuff and some other people,” he said lamely.

“Like Aunt Jean?”

“What?” He snapped his head towards her.

“She called yesterday. Mommy yelled at her for a long time.” Kate began to pick at the hem of her skirt.

“Yeah?” Clint cleared his throat. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. She kept saying how everything was her fault and how she ruins people's lives,” her words came out softly.

Clint swallowed hard. _'Where were you last night?’ ‘I can't…I don’t know…’ ‘Don’t lie to me Clint! She already called me!’_ “It wasn’t Aunt Jean’s fault. Yeah, it had to do with Aunt Jean, but it wasn’t her fault.”

Kate squinted at him, “Was it your fault?”

He looked back at her. On any given day, Clint was pretty proud of the person he'd become. He was proud of how he dragged himself, bleeding and burning, through the hell that had been his life, and came out more or less on top. But right now, in this moment, with his little girl asking him if he was the reason that her life had been turned upside down...right now, he wished he were someone else, anyone else. 

 “Yeah,” he licked his lips and clenched his hands on the table. “It was my fault. I did a bad thing and people got angry. Mommy got very angry.”

He imagined he could feel each second tick by as the silence hung heavy between them. He didn't know what to say to break it, he didn't know how to explain it any further. _This is it, Clint. Remember this. You can look back and say this was the moment where she started to hate you._

“Why don’t…,” he cleared his throat, “Why don’t we go home? We can have breakfast for dinner tonight. If you want.”

Kate slid from the booth and went to stand by the door, her forehead pressed against the glass. He watched her for a moment, then threw away their trash and led her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote in the beginning is from Child and Adolescent Development for Educators by Judith Meece and Denise Daniels


	5. We don't go to bars on school nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday night- Bruce had a difficult week, and deserves a chance to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to banish the lingering sadness of the last chapter, so here's a more light-hearted one.
> 
> I feel like I should mention again that this is an AU. The characters won't always act or respond in the same ways as they would in the movies or comics. So...you know, just keep that in mind.

_That’s the thing about being employed. Things quickly become a habit. Staying home in the evenings and watching TV. Not leaving work at work. Eating fast food because you’re too tired to cook. You gotta break out of that- learn a new recipe, go to a show, go out and see other people. Make a new habit._

Bruce was trying to ignore them. He was valiantly trying to ignore of all of them. He was failing at it.

“The Cube is having a deal- buy two pitchers, get a free round of vodka shots,” Loki squinted at the information on his phone as he stretched out on Bruce’s couch.

“Let’s go to the Arc; Pep says they’re having a special on swizzles,” Tony’s feet were swinging wildly as he sat on the table next to Bruce’s laptop.

“Swizzles?” Loki raised his eyes and stared incredulously at Tony. “What in heaven’s name is a swizzle?”

“I dunno,” Tony shrugged carelessly, thumbs tapping away on his phone. “Something Rhodey cooked up.”

Loki snorted, “Of course you only want to go the establishment owned by your friend. And I thought his bar was called Devil Dog?”

“Okay. First of all, best friend,” Tony didn't look from his phone, but raised his foot to point it in Loki’s general direction. “Second of all, Devil Dog is a stupid name for a bar, the Arc was so much better. I mean, have you looked up ‘devil dog’ in Urban Dictionary? It’s awful and don’t do it, I don’t want you to sully your unsullied eyes.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but Tony didn't look up and didn't pause.

“Third of all, I don’t see anything wrong with only wanting to hang out at my best friend’s bar. I bring him business, we get to hang out with the owner and get discounted drinks all night. Plus...swizzles! It’s a win win for everyone. Besides,” Tony finally looked up from the glowing screen. “Pepper’s been saying that she needs my signature on something and she gets testy if I stall her for too long.”

“Have you once again fallen out of grace with your honored lady, my friend?” Thor grinned at Tony from his chair across the room.

“Have I…no, I haven’t fallen out of anything, thank you!” Tony shoved his phone into his pocket and craned his neck around to look at blond man. “Why are you here, who invited you?”

“Loki did,” Thor continued to grin, even as he grabbed a banana from Bruce’s fruit bowl.

“What? Again? Loki, why? This is a betrayal. My poor heart can’t take it,” Tony clutched at his chest and grabbed Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce sighed.

“It’s Thursday,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Brother bonding night,” Thor said around his mouthful of fruit.

Loki grimaced, “Mother insisted.”

“Wait, it’s every Thursday you hang out? Not just last week? Are you guys five years old or something?” Tony snorted. “Brother bonding night my ass.”

“And here I thought you were an advocate for sustaining family relations,” Loki smirked at him.

“Oh I am, believe me, I am. I mean I focus more on repairing parent to child relationships rather than sibling to sibling, but still I’m definitely cool with bonding nights and braiding hair parties and other giggling over marshmallows things,” Tony waved his hand expansively. “I’m just saying it’s a little strange for two grown men to be hanging out just because Mommy insisted on it. Am I right or am I right? Back me up on this, Bruce, my man.”

Bruce shook his head, trying to concentrate on the email he was typing. “Oh no, I’m not getting involved in this. I am ignoring you.”

“But Bruce,” Tony whined and draped himself over Bruce’s keyboard. “The only reason we’re here is for you.”

“Really?” Bruce sent a faintly exasperated look at the man. “I didn't ask you guys here. From what I recall, you and Loki followed me home from school and proceeded to raid my fridge and drink my beer. And Thor simply appeared in my kitchen. Now move.”

“Nope,” Tony stretched out even further. “What are you even doing? Are you…are you doing work? Good god, Banner. The school’s day over- take off the tie and glasses and relax a little.”

“Tony. I need to respond to this email before tomorrow morning. Now, move please.”

“Nope. You can it send later. We are going out tonight, because you had a terrible week. What with the projectile vomiting…”

“The Curtis twins caught the flu but their mother still sent them to school,” Bruce explained to Loki’s and Thor’s disgusted faces.

“…and the surprise bump in roster…”

“Student transfer from the county- they told me on the same morning that he arrived,” Bruce explained again.

“…and don’t forget Mr. Muscly McPotty Mouth.” Bruce’s face immediately turned red.

“Mr. Muscly McPotty Mouth?” Loki’s eyes were wide. Thor mouthed the phrase to himself as if feeling out the words.

“It’s nothing,” Bruce rushed out, now trying to push Tony away from his laptop.

“Ah, your dulcet tones say it’s nothing, but your blushing fair skin says it’s something,” Tony sang out, not budging from his position.

“Has our solitary friend found a gentleman worthy of his gaze?” Thor chuckled warmly.

“My friend, not our friend. You’re just a weekly visitor. And why are you talking like that, it’s irritating,” Loki shot an annoyed glance at him.

Thor shrugged, “I’m practicing for a play. I’m trying out for the part of Lenato, governor of Messina. I’m sorry if it troubles you brother, but I shall be speaking in this manner for some time.”

“For goodness sake, I have a name,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Yes, of course. But may I express concern for your eyes? If they roll any further back into your skull, they may become quite lost and may never find their way forward again,” Thor said good-naturedly.

“Darlings, quit the chatter,” Tony sent them a glare from his prone position. “Back to me now. Bruce, we’re here ‘cause you've had a terrible week full of sickness and hot but emotionally volatile dads, so we’re going to imbibe some alcohol and make you feel better.”

“I don’t see how that’s going to make me feel better. Actually, all it will do is make me more tired for tomorrow…which is a school day Tony,” Bruce looked sternly at him. “Which makes this a school night and I thought we didn't go to bars on school nights.”

“Aw come on, tomorrow’s DEAR day, it’ll be a cake walk! You've got, what, 5 parents coming in to read?” Tony pushed off the computer and sat back up on the table, nudging his foot into Bruce’s stomach.

Bruce swatted his foot away, “6 actually.”

“Boom. 6 parents. All you have to do is show up. That’s why it called Drop Everything and Read. Because you can just drop your lessons and read to the kids!”

Bruce sighed and gave up trying the pretense of trying to work. “You guys don’t have DEAR day, though.”

“Well, Loki’s concocted a special torture for his brats. Right?” Tony looked over at the man.

“End of the semester finals prep. All day long,” Loki grinned with all of his teeth.

“Wow. On a Friday?” Bruce turned and stared at him. “Those kids must hate you.”

Loki shrugged and put his hands behind his head, “They are beneath me. Their hatred means nothing.”

Tony and Bruce shared a horrified look, while Thor laughed.

“Riiight. Anyway, I only have one session tomorrow and it’s so simple I could do it in my sleep- the parents have completely groveled and kid’s ready to move on to the kiss and make up stage. Then I've got the rest of the day free.”

“I thought you were in training tomorrow,” Loki raised his head and narrowed his eyes at Tony.

“Pssshhh, it’s a webinar. I’ll do it from the comfort of my bed and my new silk robe. They can’t see me or anything," Tony leaned back on his hands and began to kick his feet again. Bruce slid his chair away. "Though I’ll bet they wish they could. It’s an awesome robe.”

There was a pause where Tony looked at them expectantly.

“It’s red. Like hot rod red,” he finally volunteered.

Bruce stared at his keyboard while Loki looked up at the ceiling. Thor hid a smile behind his hand.

Tony continued, “It’s got gold piping, like on the sleeves and neck and belt.” He waited for a response. None came. “And it’s sexy! Like, it only comes down to…”

“Okay!” Bruce cut him off hurriedly. “We’ll go out. Just…stop talking.”

“For you big guy, anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote in the beginning was said to me by a friend who had watched me struggle to balance my life during my first year of teaching.


	6. The swizzles are stronger than they look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday night- Clint's had a hard week and Natasha drags him out to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write. The dynamic between Natasha and Clint was hard to put into words. Please let me know how it reads.
> 
> Also, I'm going on vacation for a couple of weeks, so I'll try update another chapter today to make up for it.

_Be prepared to always carry the mantle of your school everywhere you go. Grocery store, gym, walking the dog, everywhere. When your parent population sees you outside of the school building, they don't think 'Oh it's okay, they're off the clock.' No, they think, 'Oh my god, my baby's teacher wears hot pink Betty Boop shorts outside to get the paper. How scandalous!'_

“In case you weren't aware, your life is a soap opera,” Natasha said before taking a sip of her strawberry margarita.

Clint snorted, “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really, it is. Everything with you is so dramatic and larger than life, and simply filled with misunderstandings. If you were anyone else, I’d say that you totally exaggerate your stories for sympathy, but since you’re you...” Natasha shrugged and delicately licked sugar off the rim of her glass.

Clint shot her a glare that she calmly ignored. “I tell you about the troubles of raising my kid and the awful dinner that I just sat through, and your answer is to tell me my life is too dramatic?”

She paused, then continued as if he hadn't spoken, “I mean, honestly? I think I would pay to watch your life play out in HD. Like I would pay HBO level fees. Then, at least when I get frustrated and want to yell at the main characters, I can be comforted by the fact that they’re not real and they actually live happy, peaceful lives with fat, fluffy puppies.”

Clint sighed and took a sip of his ginger ale. He glanced around the bar- it seemed that Thursdays were busy at Devil Dog. There was a group of girls gyrating to "Timber" on the small dance floor, and a group of college kids huddling at the tall tables, playing some kind of game with shots. Over by the booths in the back, there was a large party gathered- he could hear their laughter even over the music.

“Well?”

Clint jerked his attention back to her, “What?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Oh. Missed it. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, “Why did I invite you out again?”

“Because you are a good friend,” he grinned at her. “And when you heard how sucky my evening was, you told me that I needed to get out and be around people.”

“Hm. Well, I wasn't wrong. You look better than you did an hour ago,” she looked at him critically. “Do you think…”

He raised an eyebrow when she didn't continue. “Do I think what?”

“Do you think it's time to get back out there? Date again?”

“Why, are you asking me out?”

She stared at him, then threw her head back and laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair. Rolling his eyes, he glanced around the room again. There was a man kneeling on one of the bar stools, talking and gesturing frantically while the bartender laughed at him. He was dressed in a shiny, silvery suit and had large aviators propped on his nose. _What kind of jerk wears sunglasses inside a bar?_

“Oh! Oh, goodness, that was good,” Natasha grabbed her bar napkin and blotted her eyes carefully.

He smiled, “I still insist that it wasn't that bad of a date.”

“Clint,” she looked at him, her eyes still creased with amusement, “you burned my leg and your hands with spilled coffee, you forgot your wallet and couldn't pay for the taxi, and then we ended up having to walk eighteen blocks through a downpour without umbrellas. It was a pretty bad date.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I know so. Luckily, you make a much better friend than you do a romantic partner.”

Well, didn't that just hit the nail on the head. He looked away towards the sunglasses man again.

“Oh. Hey, come on. I’m sorry,” she nudged his ankle gently with her foot.

“No, you’re right. You’re just…right.”

There was silence between them. Meanwhile, Sunglasses was attempting to climb behind the bar, while the bartender, still laughing, easily kept him on his stool.

“What about Bobbi?” Natasha suddenly said.

Frowning, he met her eyes. “What about her?”

“I heard she’s back in town. Business conference or something. You should call her.”

“Yeah, no. Been down that road. Several times in fact. Would rather not do that again.”

“I could ask Pepper if she knows anyone,” Natasha sucked up the last of her drink and frowned at the empty glass.

“Pepper?”

“I told you," she sighed, "she handles all the media and sales for this place. She got me on the list for tonight?”

"Um, okay. Yes, I remember."

"Sure," Natasha shook her head at him, then leaned forward, “You’ll like her, and she knows lots of people. Single, very attractive people. In fact, I remember her saying that the PE teacher at her boyfriend’s school is hot. Like, very tall, blond, and buff hot.”

“Hm. I think I swore off blondes after the last time with Bobbi,” he answered.

“Well, she knows people with other hair colors. Come on, let’s go find her. She said she’d get me a swizzle.”

“Get you a what?” he frowned as she started to get up. “Wait, you mean now? She’s here?”

“Well, of course, she’s been promoting swizzle night for two weeks. She’d want to see how it turned out. Come on.”

Natasha easily wound her way through the crowded bar towards the booths in the back. He had been with her the entire time they’d been there and he had no idea how she knew where to find this person.

It was all he could do to keep track of her in the crowds. Luckily, she stood out in her red dress and flaming red hair. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he bumped and fell through the press of bodies, only to jerk to a stop in order to avoid running into her.

She gave him her usual look of part amusement, part exasperation and then leaned into one of the booths to talk with a woman with light red hair wearing a backless blue dress. Judging from their familiarity, he guess that the woman must be Pepper. He couldn't hear their conversation over the combined noise of the bar and laughter of the group next to them. Turns out the loud group was even louder up close- the noise seemed to coming mostly from a big, blond man who was gesturing widely as he recounted a story.

He shifted his feet awkwardly, waiting for Natasha to introduce him when he heard- “Mr. Barton?”

He turned around, already prepared to see one of his clients- _why yes, I do have a social life when I’m not painting your house and please, it’s just Clint_ \- when he met the shocked eyes of Dr. Banner. _Oh shit._

“Oh shit,” he blurted out.

Banner blinked at him and took a step back, “Uh…”

“Sorry, I didn't…I didn't mean that. Well I mean, I meant it, but I didn't…” Clint clamped his mouth shut.

Banner blinked again but then a small smile crossed his face. “Um. Yeah. Okay?”

Clint nodded, not sure what he was responding to and not trusting himself to sound intelligent in that moment. Because in that moment, Clint was noticing some things that he hadn't before. Oh, he’d noticed the man’s smile the first time they met but in their previous encounters, he had been too distraught to appreciate the man’s strong neck, the broad line of his shoulders, and _oh holy chest hair_.

Banner’s white shirt was fitted, but his top buttons were undone to expose quite a bit olive toned skin, a leather cord that was tucked underneath, and the first smatterings of what looked like some deliciously manly chest hair. _Oh my god, I think I want to lick his neck_.

Clint didn't realize he was staring until he heard Banner clear his throat. He jerked his eyes back up and saw that Banner raising an eyebrow at him. Clint blushed so hard, he could almost feel his cheeks blistering.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he looked away. He felt Banner step closer to him.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind being ogled.”

Clint’s mouth fell open as he looked back up to catch Banner’s smirk.

The man continued, “In fact, I encourage such things. With the right person, of course.” _Oh. My. God. Is he hitting on me? No. No way._  

“Um. I…uh…I’m…” Clint trailed off and Banner’s smirk widened. He took another step closer to Clint and then another. All that separated them now was the tray Banner was holding in one hand. It was filled with…“What are those?” Clint stared down at the drinks.

The shot glasses were a rainbow swirled color and held different colored liquids. The purple ones were smoking. Banner glanced down as well and shrugged carefully, “Swizzles. These ones,” he picked up a purple one, “are called Purple Rain. Tastes like melancholy, soul, and sex.”

He downed the shot in one swallow, and put the glass back. “Would you like one?”

“Ah, no thanks. I don’t drink.”

Banner frowned and Clint saw him open his mouth to ask the obvious question when Sunglasses came up and hugged the man from behind.

“Big guy!”

“Hey, Tony,” Banner leaned back and nuzzled Sunglasses’s chin.

Clint realized he must have had some kind of look on his face because Sunglasses looked over and glared at him.

“What’s with you? Have a problem with two guys showing affection?”

“What? No!”

“Tony,” Banner patted Sunglasses’s arm with his free hand, “this is Kate’s dad.”

“Oh,” Sunglasses whipped off his eye wear and let go of Banner to stick out his head. “Tony Stark. Guidance counselor at Forest Lane Elementary and Middle School. Pleased to meet you.”

Clint blinked at him and then tentatively shook his hand. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Stark nodded and bounced on his feet a little. Then he froze.

“Wait. Kate’s dad?”

“Um,” Clint glanced at Banner, who was in the middle of contemplating another swizzle. “Yes?”

“Kate Barton’s dad? Like 4:15, shark display Kate Barton's dad?” Stark swiveled his head back and forth between Clint and Banner.

Clint frowned, “What?”

“Holy shit!” Stark punched Bruce lightly in the shoulder. “This is Muscley McPotty Mouth? Hot damn!”

“Wait, what?” Clint was beginning to feel like he had been dropped into an alternate dimension.

“Not so potty mouth tonight though,” Banner squinted at him, “but still muscly.”

Clint’s head was spinning. “Muscly?”

Banner nodded seriously and motioned towards his arms, “You know, muscly.”

Clint stared at him. He had no idea what to say to that. He caught Stark’s eyes rapidly flicking over him from head to toe.

“Gotta say, Bruce baby, you don’t do anything by halves," the man sent a leer in Clint's direction.

Clint stepped back and held his hands up, almost defensively. He felt the craziness of the situation beginning to overwhelm him. He pointed accusingly at Banner, “You’re drunk.” Then he pointed at Stark, “You’re both drunk.”

Banner hummed, while Stark rolled his eyes. “Well, it is a bar,” he replied snidely, putting back on his sunglasses. “And for the record, I’m not drunk, I'm simply absorbing and reflecting the energy of my surroundings. And Bruce is...” Stark stopped and cock his head at the man next to him. Banner smiled gently and downed an orange swizzle. “Bruce is drunk. How many of those have you had, buddy?”

Banner waved the shot glass at him and answered, “The orange ones taste like oranges and sunshine.”

Tony laughed, bent over and clutching his knee, “Yes, they certainly do. Where’s my phone? I need documented evidence of this!”

“Tony, don’t be a brat.” The calm, cool voice came from behind him. Clint spun, desperately hoping to find someone sane. Instead, he saw Natasha with her eyebrows raised and a sly smile hovering on her lips. Shit, she must have heard everything. Next to her the woman in the blue dress was sliding out of the booth to balance on very tall heels. She moved over to link her arm with Stark’s.

“Pepper, darling of darlings, where is my phone? I need to capture Bruce loosening up for once.”

“I have it and no,” Pepper rolled her eyes. “Leave him alone.”

“Yeah, Tony,” Banner chimed in. “Leave me alone.” He then picked up a pink swizzle and sniffed it. “This smells like rainbows,” he sighed happily.

Stark smirked and waved towards Clint, “Yeah, leave you alone. More like leave you and Muscly here alone.”

"Muscly?" Pepper repeated, looking over at him. Clint could feel himself turning red again as she scrutinized him, but he found himself focusing on Banner…who was looking back at him, the drink halfway to his lips. “I think that’s up to him,” he heard the man say and then watched as Banner took the shot and then slowly licked his lips. Clint’s skin was hot and tight, and he felt a little breathless.

“My goodness,” he felt Natasha saunter up next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

Clint breathed slightly easier. Natasha was familiar, he could deal with her. “That’s the line you’re going for?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I think it’s appropriate for the situation,” she smiled sweetly at him.

“Who are you?” Stark eyed her and Banner eyed the arm she had around Clint.

“Tony, this is Natasha. Remember, she worked with me at that steak place? And this is her friend…” Pepper looked at him again, curiously.

“Clint Barton,” he supplied.

Pepper beamed at him, Tony raised his eyebrows above his glasses, Banner…Banner looked confused and…disappointed? That can’t be right. Clint frowned. The guy had seemed so happy and loose just a second ago, and Clint had a unusual urge to bring that back. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like Banner should never look disappointed.

Banner stepped back once and then again. “Um. I think I’m going to get more of these.” He gestured towards his tray.

Pepper held out her hand hesitantly, “Bruce, they’re actually really strong. Maybe you should slow down?”

“Nope!” Bruce replied over his shoulder as he walked back towards the bar.

“Tony, maybe…” Pepper began worriedly.

“Ah, let him live a little, Pep. Rhodey will cut him off if he gets too bad,” Tony flapped his hand at her. “Hey, nice to meet you both. I have to go irritate some Europeans.”

Clint turned and watched him saunter towards to the large group next to them. Stark draped himself over the back of a man with long black hair and laughed when the man turned and kissed his cheek.

A small silence fell in the space that he had left. Pepper broke it, saying, “Natasha, it was wonderful to see you again. Will you still be around later?”

“No.” Clint only realized he had spoken when he noticed them looking at him.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat, “we have to go. Home.” He saw Natasha narrow her eyes, but thankfully, she didn't comment.

She shrugged and said, “I might stop in again tomorrow. There’s a band playing, isn't there?”

“Yes!” Pepper’s face lit up. “Hopscotch and Jacks will be playing! They’re amazing- I’ll get you good seats.”

“Wonderful! Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Natasha let go of him to hug Pepper. The woman waved at Clint and then went to join Stark. She sat down next to the man with the black hair and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Natasha sighed and grabbed his hand, “Come on, then.”

He let her lead him through the bar and towards the door, but the crowd had grown and he was becoming distracted. When he heard a loud cheer coming from the bar area, he turned his head automatically in that direction.

Clint didn't see what had caused the cheering, but he did see Banner. The man was leaning, his back against the bar top, his arms and ankles crossed. He would have bet money that earlier the man had been three sheets to the wind, but from what Clint could see, Banner looked cool and collected, his rolled up sleeves straining against his biceps. He realized that Banner was staring back at him, and he stumbled over a purse someone had left on the ground. Ignoring Natasha's sighed curses, he righted himself and looked back at the bar. Banner was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote in the beginning was said by a professor to my learning cohort during a class discussion of the public versus private personas of teachers.


	7. Coffee and First Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce didn't drink often...but when he did, he usually regretted it the next day.

_I would highly advise that you keep things professional with your parents. Try to maintain some distance by talking about school events and about their children, not about your hobbies or what you do when you leave the building._

Bruce groaned at the feeling of someone poking his cheek.

“Leave me alone,” he whined.

“No,” he heard Loki’s voice say sternly. “You are at work and you are a professional. Stop napping in your classroom.”

Bruce groaned again, and picked his head up slowly. He rubbed at his cheek, where he could felt a paper crease imprinted in his skin.

“My head feels like its vibrating.”

“Well, that might be because of the swizzles you drank last night. Perhaps some coffee would make you feel better,” Loki said as he held out a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

As Bruce looked at it, Loki smirked, raised the cup slowly, and took a long, luxurious sip. “Hmm, this is quite delicious.”

“You are a dick and I hate you so much.”

“Yes,” Loki took another sip. “I know.”

Bruce sighed and sat up completely. He rubbed his forehead, and looked around his classroom. His kids were currently at Art since they couldn't do PE in their pajamas, but the remnants of their DEAR activities still littered the room. Pillow and blanket forts were elaborately and haphazardly constructed around the room, while brightly colored books lined every available surface.

Tony had been right- it had been a very easy day, teaching-wise, but that only allowed him plenty of time to dwell on what a fool he made out of himself last night. Bruce’s problem was that, though he didn't drink often, when he did, he could drink large, almost inhuman amounts. And he always remembered everything that happened during the night.

Loki narrowed his eyes at Bruce, “You really do look terrible. Perhaps you should have stayed home today.”

Bruce looked down at himself, though he knew what he looked like since he had caught a glance in the mirror in the hallway. His tan plaid shirt was wrinkled, he had grabbed his dirtier pair of sneakers, and he was sure that his socks were mismatched. At least his jeans were clean.

He had tried to pass his significant stubble and rumpled hair off as a pajama day look for the kids. From the looks and grins he’d gotten from his fellow teachers, he didn't think he was successful.

“No, I’m fine,” he finally answered Loki. “I’ll make it. It’s just this headache.” Bruce stood and stretched, and began rummaging around for the class first aid kit. Maybe there was some pain killers in there. “How’s your finals prep coming?”

Loki propped his hip on the edge of the desk and declared, “Middle schoolers at the worst. You’d think by this point they would learn to accept that they have no control over their lives.”

Bruce chuckled “You know you say that every year, but you secretly love and cherish them.”

“Ugh. Do not say those words. I most certainly do not…” Loki broke off and whipped around to face the door. “Who are you?”

Bruce looked up from his search and felt his stomach drop. Clint Barton stood in the door way, hand raised to knock. In his other hand, he held a paper carrier with two coffees in it.

“Clint Barton. My daughter’s in this class,” Barton dropped his hand and took a couple of steps into the room. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Uh, no,” Bruce straightened and dusted off his hands. “Please, uh, come in. We were just…um,”

He glanced at Loki, who was sipping his coffee, carefully looking at Barton from head to toe. Barton returned his gaze, almost defiantly. Bruce cleared his throat and said, “This is Loki. He is our behavioral and intervention specialist. He designs curriculum for our middle schoolers who aren't doing well in their classes.”

Barton nodded to Loki and asked, “Loki? Is that first name, last name?”

“Only name,” Loki answered shortly. “Like Cher. Or Beyonce.”

Bruce sent him an amused glance, “I’m pretty sure Beyonce has a last name.”

Loki snorted, “Yes, but it’s not as important as her first.”

Barton glanced between the two of them, but didn't say anything. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as Loki continued to inspect Barton and Barton tried to catch Bruce's eye.

“Well,” Loki said suddenly. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He looked at Bruce “Wouldn't want your coffee to get cold. Feel better.”

Bruce frowned, “My coffee?” Loki swept out of the room without answering.

“Uh, I think he meant this coffee,” Barton indicated the carrier he held. “I, uh, got you coffee.”

Bruce turned his frown towards Clint, “You got me coffee?”

“Um. Yes?” He put the carrier down on the small group table and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out sugar and cream packets. He reached into his other pocket to pull out a small bottle, “I also brought Advil.”

Bruce shook his head and then winced as his temples throbbed. “You brought me coffee and Advil. Why?”

Barton looked at him, lips twitching, “Well, yeah. From the way you were going last night, seemed like a sure thing that you’d have a pretty killer hangover.”

Bruce winced again at the reminder of last night. “Yeah. Okay. Uh, well thank you. Thank you very much.” He walked over to the small group table and accepted the coffee that Clint held out to him. He swallowed when he felt their fingers brush on the cup. _Keep it together, Banner. You’re a professional._

“Sugar? Cream?” Barton indicated the packets.

“Ah, no thanks. Can’t take a lot of sweet things when I feel like this.” Barton nodded, then pried open the Advil bottle. He shook two out and offered them. Bruce carefully took them, his fingers brushing the man’s palm. _He’s got warm hands_.

Bruce cleared his throat and took a step back. He quickly swallowed the tablets with the coffee, relishing the burning sensation that went down his throat. He looked up to see Barton regarding him steadily over the top of his own coffee cup. Bruce cleared his throat again, “Um…you have paint on your hands.”

Barton looked at the streaks of paint on his palm and grinned, “I own a painting business. I can never get it all off.”

_Oh wow. Now that’s a smile that’ll break hearts._ Barton’s smile crinkled his eyes and lit up his entire face. His teeth flashed white and even against his tanned skin. Bruce let his eyes wander further down as the man kept talking. Barton was wearing a fitted black tshirt underneath a black leather jacket with dark fitted jeans and dark grey sneakers. Bruce eyed the jacket, wondered if the leather would be soft under his fingers.

He was thinking about hard muscles encased in soft leather, when he realized that Barton had stopped talking and was calmly watching him. _Shit._

“Er…what?” Bruce said, awkwardly.

Barton took a sip of his coffee, “Where’d I lose you?”

“Um…I don't…I’m so sorry, I was…”

“Woolgathering?” Barton interrupted.

Bruce smiled gratefully, “Exactly.”

“Or ogling?”

The words hung in the air as Bruce flinched and looked at the man, startled. He was still calming watching, sipping his coffee slowly. Bruce was beginning to feel like a field mouse who knew that the bird of prey was there, eyeing him for dinner. He stepped back and then again until his legs hit his desk.

He took a deep breath, but even with the distance, the air felt thick. “I should…I should apologize for last night.”

Bruce paused, but Barton said nothing. “I was very drunk and I said some things that were highly inappropriate. Especially considering our working relationship.”

Barton sat down in one of the kid’s chair and leaned forward, wrapping both of his hands around his drink. “Do you let loose like that often?”

“No, god no!” Bruce shook his head and winced. Right, still had a headache. “It had been a hard week and my friends were trying to cheer me up.”

“You mean, Sunglasses.”

“What?”

“Your friend with the sunglasses. That who you mean?”

“Oh. Yes. Tony. He is an instigator.”

Barton chuckled, “He looks like one.” He was still watching Bruce steadily. “I’m guessing from the nickname, I might have been part of the cause for the hard week.”

Bruce groaned and closed his eyes- that stupid nickname. _I’m going to kill Tony_. “I’m so sorry that you had to hear that. My friends think that they’re funny.”

He heard the smile in Barton’s voice, “Well it’s kinda catchy. And kinda true- I do have a potty mouth. And according to you…I’m muscly.”

Bruce felt a blush creeping up his neck and firmly kept his eyes closed, “Again, I’m so incredibly sorry. I can’t even begin to tell you.” He heard the chair creak and he cracked one eye open to see Barton stand up and begin to gather the coffee supplies.

“I’m just teasing…it’s really no problem. Made for an interesting night.”

Bruce exhaled, but still felt the tug of professional duty which made him say, “Thank you. But I’d understand if you’d want to go to the principal to discuss my behavior…”

Barton waved his hand in dismissal, “Naw, man. We were both off the clock and I think we can handle a bit of mutual attraction like grown men.”

_Mutual…?_ Bruce blinked. Last night, he _had_ thought that Barton had been eyeing him appreciatively…did he mean…no. No. Barton was just trying to put him at ease. After all, the man had an incredibly beautiful girlfriend who had been wrapped around him for the rest of the time they’d been in the bar.

He caught Barton looking at him expectantly, though he wasn't sure what his response was supposed to be. He cleared his throat, “The kids will be back from Art soon, did you want to wait around, maybe read a book or two to the group?”

Barton looked slightly confused, maybe at the change in topic. Bruce elaborated, “It’s Drop Everything And Read day. Parents come in all day to read to the kids. We sent home a notice about it.”

“Oh. Yeah, I saw that. Um, no thanks. Jess does the reading- she does all the voices and stuff,” Barton tucked a hand into his jeans pocket and picked up the bag of coffee trash in the other. “Besides, Kate hates when I stop by without giving her a heads up.”

Bruce nodded and straightened from his desk.

Barton shifted his weight from foot to foot. “How’s she doing by the way? Better since Monday?”

Bruce smiled, “She seems a bit pre-occupied, but some of the kids are lately. Busy planning their Halloween costumes in their head. She seems fine otherwise.”

“Good. That’s good.” Barton fidgeted again. Bruce frowned, it seemed like the man was waiting for something. “Well, I guess…I should head out.”

“Of course. Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Barton. And the forgiveness,” Bruce walked with him to the door.

“Yeah, course. No problem to both. Though,” Barton paused and turned to face him. “if I bring you coffee, maybe you should call me Clint?”

He thought quickly. First names invite familiarity, which could lead to…he noticed the hopeful look in Clint’s eyes and he melted inside. “Clint, of course. Then you’ll have to call me Bruce.”

“Bruce,” Clint said his name as if he was capturing the flavor of it. “I’ll see you around, Bruce.”

He watched Clint walk down the door, whistling to himself. Just before he turned the corner, Clint looked back and waved. Bruce waved back and sighed. _Crap. This is going to be trouble_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning was said by my principal on the first day of New Teacher Orientation.

**Author's Note:**

> I have the best readers! I reached 100 kudos on my other work, Burning Together, which was a personal goal of mine! So to thank you properly, I have opened up my ask box for this week: [tumblr ](http://unnaturalnoise.tumblr.com/ask). You can leave me prompts, ask me questions, harass me about unfinished works, whatever. Please drop by, I'd love to hear from you!


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